Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-02-17

me-"
Not here~
mo, not here; down by the Castor, when
get money enough"
You will have the money"
mo, it is yours too"
g But don't want it. / will live here Just
the same-only you, Octave, YOU will not be
here"
mo, little brother, you will live with me.
Keila said so"
Did she say that, Octaye.' his voice
trembled
YES; Eeila said 50
Then there was long silence, and the cry
OF the looms came from the lake, through the
open door, across the strip of moonlight.
"Will YOU come TO bed, Octavel"
"No not yet"
He rose and closed the door behind him.
shutting out the light and walked up and
down the beach until the sun drove the last
laggard star out of the sky.
Aside from the path, near to the Castor, in
the dense forest, was little oval of the
greenest glass. The flowers never bloomet,
there, but lowered about the silver stems of
the popiars that circled the spot and when
they commenced To die the wind carried
their petals inside the close and strewed them
on the grass. At one side a large stone had
thrust itself for foot or SO into the space,
and ifs moss covered ledge formed a low
bench.
1t was a June evening of the next year
The darkness had closed i'll early, and the
poplars were the only trees that answered to
the faint breeze. Octave was walking, al
most as quickly as usual, in the direction of
the Castor. The path was familiar to him.
and even in the darkness he stepped over the
logs and avoided the low branches. He was
whistling to himself so softly that the breath
just vibrated on his hips.
As he approached the line of underbrush
that separated the path from the little circle
/ of grass he heard the sound Of voices. He
went on, without Stacking his pace, until he
came to a place where the hazes We're less
thick. Then he stopped suddenly, as if he
had stepped against u stone wall and put lis
| hand to his head.
A voice was saying: We should not have
come here; We must SO away" He could
make no mistake. That was keila's voice
NO; have something to say" 1t was
when he heard these words that he put his
hand to his head. That was, it must be, he
knew it was Francois.
! He stepped off the path on the opposite side
! from where they were talking and leaned
against young tree, twining his arms
through the low branches. The words came
very distinctly to him, mingled with the light
shiyering rustic of the poplars.
Il know tha: you love me, keila,' y Francois
was saying
| You must not say so.h
| But cannot live without YOU
| You must. We must think OF Octave; he
/ is so good"
"Yes; but l wish he had never seen YOU.
Why did you ever tell him YOU loved him"
Il did love him, Francois-only-only, You
should never have come near me, then l
would always have loved him tAe best"
But now, keila."
"Oh! Francois, You must not talk TO me;
you don't know he v Octave loves me-"
And you don't know how Hove you"
-Ys; but think of Octave. How many
times he has fought for you, and saved your
life
Yes; it is true. But what can We dor
I'VE can both be true to Octave. Yes,
Francois, / must be true to Octave"
why can't you so away with me down
the river and never come back"
you must go away alone, and never see
me again"
helld, L cannot IeaNe YOU
You must. Do promise me- Francois
Think Of poor Octave
There was long silence. The wind had
risen. and all the trees were signing softly.
do promise me-"
"Yes, keila, l will promise you; but l
must go away. l can never come back
Only let NE see you once again, here, to NOR
row night, and will promise you anything"
while. You must not come home with me-
Octave will come tonight. Good-by!'
"Good-byI"
They came out onto the path and walked
in opposite directions.
Octave seemed to be thinking the words a.
they camc to him so slowly. 1t could never
be that they were there talking, but Francois
passed quite close to him, and he could have
no doubt
The words kept recurring as he had heard
them, only the rustic of the trees was still
and from about his feet rose the smell of
crushed moss and wet leaves. Very near him
were a few large white lilies that shown
through the darkness dimly, like shrouded
stars. He hung there, like stag caught by
the antlers, waiting for death. until the dark
forest pools commenced TO brighten with the
dawn and the birds near him began to wake.
then he drew himself up and walked away.
He went, by paths through the tangled for
est, toward the lake that was lying silvered
somewhere III the north He passed the spots
where they used to set their traps when his
father was alive. He seemed to be back in |
that faded time again, and paused often to
wait for the little brother who would always |
lag behind
The lake was reached at last He threw |
himself down where a group of poplars and a |
few naples made a shady place, where the |
shore was high and the water stretched away |
TO the island, where the wrecked cedars lay |
blanched, like the bones of giants, on the |
broken shore
The day wore on. Now and then a small, |
shadowy cloud drifted dreamiIy out of the |
west and vanished like a vision. The winds |
touched the water lightly, making ripples
that never reached the shore
All day long he lay quietly, as if asleep,
and the shadows of leaves kept tiuttering over
him with countless soothing hands. The sun
sank, leaving no color in the sky, and already (
the twilight was falling
The water was very quiet and seemed to
be heaving toward him as he gazed at IT, He
folded his arms, and great calm stole over
him as he looked past the island, where the
lake seemed shorelesS And when it was dark
he rose and went back by the track that he had
followed in the morning, and stood at last
very near to the place where he had paused
the night before.
There was a low talking in the bushes He
waited for moment, and then parted the
branches and stood just within the little
circle
Francois" he said. His voice was very
clear. They were seated on the low stone
and had not heard him. They started
Francois stood up and looked at Octave
standing in among the ghostly white poplars.
Francois, do not speak. Last night |
heard you You need not go away, you and
keila She loves you, and II love you
both l am older than you, little brother.
And do You remember when gave you the
little doe caught by the Ruisseau!-so long
ago; and now-now it is kela that give